Gabriel's Game
by InfiniteEmma
Summary: Based off a YouTube video of the same name Also includes characters from Sherlock. Sam, Dean, Bela, the 10th Doctor, Sherlock, John, and Irene are pulled into a game of life and death by the trickster angel Gabriel. The stakes are high and all the players are motivated. Rated M just to be safe, there will be language and some violence.
1. Chapter 1

"Hello, boys. Long time no see."

The voice came from the doorway of the motel. The closed and locked door of the motel room. Or at least the one that used to be closed. Dean was on is feet in a second, Sam close behind, both aiming guns towards the angel in the doorway.

"Gabriel." growled Dean.

"Oh, drop the act, Dean. You know you're happy to see me. It's been awfully boring around here- you know you would love some excitement."

"What do you want?" Sam asked, his distaste for the angel apparent.

"Nothing. Well, not much at least." He smiled and moved out of the shadows so the boys could see his face clearly. "I've just been so _bored_."

"Yeah, well, we can't help you there." Dean said, his eyes scanning the room for an angel blade. _Damn it, where had he put it?_

"Sure you can. And if you help me, I'll help you."

"How? We don't need your help."

"Sure you don't. You know what, I was wrong. I can't help you." Gabriel turned and began to exit the motel room. "I'll tell Cass you said hello."

"Stop." Dean's voice cut through the air. In second he was across the room, an angel blade held under Gabriel's neck. "What do you know about Cass?" If Gabriel was surprised about the blade he didn't show it. He began to laugh.

"Hm. Seems I _can_ help you." He slid out of Dean's grasp and walked back into the room. "I'll tell you what. Survive the next twenty-four hours and we'll talk."

"Survive what?" Dean exchanged a glance with Sam. They both knew it was a bad idea, but it seemed as though they were trapped.

"The game, Dean." Gabriel said, spreading his arms in a carefree manner. "You're in it."

"What do you mean? Who else is in it?"

"You'll see. Now, survive twenty-four hours, win the game, and I'll tell you all you need to know." Gabriel looked at his wrist. "Now it's about half past freckle, so the game starts in three…two… one." He looked up and smiled at the brothers. "Have fun!"

The angel disappeared in a flash of smoke.

Dean waved the smoke aside with his hand.

"That was probably the stupidest thing we could have done, Dean." Sam said, "You know this is just for his sick entertainment. Trust me, that is the last thing we want to be."

"You know what, Sam? He didn't really give us a chance. So stop worrying about another bad life choice, because we've both made several, and start grabbing weapons. I have the feeling we're going to need them."

Sam gave Dean a look. "I would if I could."

"What do you mean? Both your hands are working, aren't they?"

"All our weapons are gone, Dean."


	2. Chapter 2

If John didn't know Sherlock as well as he did, he probably would have been surprised to see him standing on his head against the wall, his eyes closed, humming a Mozart symphony.

"I brought groceries." John said, walking into the kitchen.

"The kindergartner could have done it…no, the lifting required to hide the- mailman! No… no no no too obvious. Unless it's a double bluff. Could be but then who's to say it isn't a triple bl- did you bring tomatoes like I asked?"

"Uhm, yeah. Expensive, out of season. Hope they're important." John said, pulling a package of tomatoes out of a bag.

"Extremely." Sherlock said, lowering his feet and standing up, leaning against the couch as gravity pulled the extra blood from his brain. "Now if your mum had remarried to a man you didn't like, would you try to kill him with a vat of tomato juice? No. No, no… Not tomato juice. Tomato _paste_. That's it!" He pulled out his phone. After a couple of beeps he put it back down. "I knew there was something off with the kindergartener-"

"Sherlock." John interrupted. "I don't care."

"Ah. Right. Sorry."

"Did you see the police box they installed on the end of the street?" John asked, trying to break the awkward silence that was falling over them.

"Police box? Police boxes aren't being _installed_ anywhere." Sherlock said, suddenly confused.

"Yes they are. End of the street. Just saw it."

"Police boxes are being taken down, not put up."

"Looks older, mid-60s maybe."

"We don't need them anymore. Everyone has a cell phone." Sherlock walked over to the windows and peered out.

John laughed, breaking Sherlock's concentration.

"It, uh, it looked like the Tardis."

"What?"

"The Tardis." John took in Sherlock's look of absolute confusion. "Dr. Who?"

"Doctor _Who_?"

John laughed.

"You mean you've never heard of Dr. Who? Ever?"

"What does this…doctor…have to do with the police box at the end of the street, John?"

"Well, it looks like the Tar- you know what, never mind."

"Right. Well." Sherlock turned back to John, "When did they put this box up?"

"I dunno. Wasn't there last night, saw it when I went out at ten. It's just an old thing."

"Another one…" Sherlock muttered.

"Another what?"

"Another old thing…this country's full of them…"

"Well, yeah…"

"For goodness sake, John, our parliament is ruled by an old thing!"

"Sherlock!"

"Sorry. Old person. God save the Queen." Sherlock walked away from the window and sat on the couch. "It still doesn't explain why they put it at the end of the street…"

Sherlock stared off into space as John resumed putting away the groceries. There was suddenly a loud flash of light and smoke in the middle of the room. As it cleared John and Sherlock could see a man standing on their coffee table.

"I have _got_ to change that!" He said in a distinctly out of place American accent. He coughed and waved the smoke away from his face. "Smoke is so bad for your lungs."

John had already pulled a gun from a kitchen drawer and was aiming it at the man's head. The man looked up at the gun and smiled. With a flick of his wrist the gun was thrown out of John's hands. It hit the wall above the mantle and fell, knocking a pile of knick-knacks to the floor.

"My skull!" Sherlock said.

"Jeesh, haven't even met me and you're already pulling guns on me. Is your last name Winchester?"

"Who do you think you are and how did you get in here?" John asked, stepping closer to the man.

"Oh, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Gabriel…I'm an angel."

"Right…"

"Don't look at me like I'm crazy. Last I checked mortals like you couldn't just appear in a flash of smoke." He paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Though you British might be more developed than the Americans… anyway, last I checked you guys couldn't."

"Sherlock, is this a crazy friend of yours or something?"

"No."

"Not yet at least!"

"You-" John pointed at Gabriel, "shut up."

"No can do, buddy. Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair soon enough. I just wanted to let you know you've been entered."

"Entered in what?" Sherlock asked, finally rising from the couch.

"The Game!" Gabriel smiled "You-"

He was interrupted by a frantic banging at the door.

"Open up!"

"Ooo, the more the merrier!" The angel said. He snapped his fingers and the lock clicked open.

The door burst open, admitting a man, followed by a young woman.

"I'm the Doctor," The man panted. "I'm here to help."


End file.
